


A tomar el té

by lessix (scrxamitout)



Series: lullabies and apartments [2]
Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/F, Kid Fic, More Fluff, Mutual Pining, i guess?, it's also short!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrxamitout/pseuds/lessix
Summary: Catherine Parr could rarely be found in her own apartment.Her life was quiet, until two months ago when Anne Boleyn and her daughter, Elizabeth, moved next door.orneighbours parrlyn au! part 2
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Catherine Parr
Series: lullabies and apartments [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778410
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	A tomar el té

**Author's Note:**

> I was not sure about writing this, but after a comment and Lexi saying that it might be good, here I am (also, she beta'ed this, as always)  
> I'm still not sure if this is my cup of tea for writing and I think it's a bit weird-ish but deal with me.  
> I'll try to post this week again, mostly because tomorrow (aka, june 9) is my birthday so I'm super happy about being old.  
> The title of this one-shot is from a Maria Elena Walsh song (translated it would be "to drink the tea" and the song is something like "we are invited to drink the tea, there's porcelain teapot but I can't see it, I don't know why" and yeah, it's a really cute song I used to sing everyday in kindergarden at tea time).

Catherine Parr could rarely be found in her own apartment.

It was a two bedroom, too big for only her, but the writer used to love the privacy it implied, the chance to isolate herself from the rest of the world when she needed a good writing session. It was modern, consisting of hard edges, dark wood furniture, and her favourite glass desk her godmother Catherine, her namesake, brought for her the first time she moved.

It had taken her some time to get used to her place, to make it feel truly hers, but after all she did it, content with the result. It had become her fortress, her place in the world. Her workspace and also where she held afternoons with Aragon, or movie nights with Anna. It was her place, be it writing on bed or staying up quietly watching a movie. Peaceful, serene.

Her life was quiet, until two months ago when Anne Boleyn and her daughter, Elizabeth, moved next door.

Don’t get her wrong, she still adored her time spent alone, but over the course of the weeks she found herself spending more and more time with the other woman and her little baby, who was developing skills every day.

That was why Catherine started spending less time at her house, and more next door. At first it was getting tea some nights, then mornings, and sometimes in the afternoon, until she offered to cook a meal for Anne, and that was how lunches started, turning recently into dinners. The three spending the time they had available together, both adults working from home.

It had somehow refreshed Parr’s life, going from being a loner to having someone to talk to every day. It was a new found alteration to the routine and she couldn’t be happier about it. Being with them felt right.

“What are you thinking about?” Anne took her out of her train of thought.

“Just stuff.” Parr replied with a smile. “Nothing to worry about, I swear.”

“If you say so.” Boleyn didn’t look convinced, but still dropped the subject. “I was thinking we should go somewhere today.”

“Isn’t it too cold for Lizzie? I know December was worse, but this January is definitely not easier.”

“I know, but I just want her to explore somewhere else, I’m sure these four walls are not enough.” Anne replied.

“What if you take her to my apartment? It’s obviously not far, and it would be nice to spend some time with you- both of you there.” Catherine smiled. “I would just need a day to clean up in case she tries to crawl.”

“It won’t happen, she is just four months old, she is learning to sit with me helping.”

“And what? She already holds her head up.” Anne laughs at Catherine’s optimism. “I know she is still young for that, but the baby is a total genius, don’t you think so?”

“She might be if you keep talking to her in a different language each time you show up here, you are overstimulating her!”

“It’s never too much, besides, you can’t say much miss I-speak-to-her-in-French.”

“Oh, hush Catherine!”

* * *

Cleaning her place shouldn’t be difficult. She wasn’t one to leave things scattered anywhere, except for her multitude of papers in case inspiration struck without announcing. But when thinking about Elizabeth coming over, suddenly everything feels like a trap. From her cactus, to the glass lamp. So many things that could hurt a baby, even if she didn’t even walk.

The rational, logical part of her knew she was overreacting, but a sudden nervousness crept in. Catherine wanted everything to be perfect, for Anne to really enjoy the evening. The desire to impress heavily weighed on her shoulders.

Maybe she should have asked for two days instead of one, because once she finally took some time to sit, Anne was already knocking on the door.

Anne’s hair pulled up in a messy bun –it was for the best, since Elizabeth has been gaining strength and getting your hair pulled was, apparently, not fun at all– and worn out sneakers. A tired smile gave Catherine the clue that she needed to take a break.

“Hey, Cathy.” Anne smiled.

“Hi Anne, hi Lizzie.”

The baby quickly reacted to the sound of her voice, motioning forward but secured in her mother’s arms. This time Anne had dressed her in a yellow bodysuit, with light grey leggings and a cardigan matching with a pattern of flowers of both colours. The sweet outfit of the child contrasted with the mother, who was wearing a dark green hoodie and black jeans.

“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, I was talking to Kit on the phone and forgot to check the time.” Anne excused herself, as Catherine let her in the apartment.

“Don’t worry at all, how is Kit doing?”

“Fine, exams coming up, you know how that is.” Anne declared. “Your place is definitely more organized than mine.”

“I cleaned up.” Catherine smiled shyly.

“Don’t sell yourself short, none of my apartments have ever been this spotless.” She admitted. “I bought some cheesecake, if that is okay.”

“Of course it's fine! I have biscuits too that we can have,” she moved to the stove, “would you prefer tea now or later?”

“Whenever you want.” Boleyn smiled.

“I have an apple and blueberry tea you have to try, it’s my favourite.”

“It must be good then,” she laughed lightly, “you have impeccable taste.”

“Oh, you flatter me.” She jokingly said. “How is Liz doing today?”

“Good! But I can’t wait for her to take a nap, it’s getting hard to settle her on a sleeping schedule.” Anne got closer to Catherine. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Yes.” She took the baby, embracing close to her. “Are you ready to tour my apartment?”

“She is, and I’m also curious,” Anne admitted.

“You are?”

“How not could I not be? You are always so fascinating; I can’t think about not being curious around you.”

Parr blushes, but quickly tires to hide it.

Down the corridor, she opens the first door. She is not sure if it’s a good idea to let Anne first into her bedroom, as personal as it might be, it is not as much as her office. The cream coloured coverlet contrasting with the dark grey comforter, pillows scattered near the head of the bed.

“You can leave Lizzie on the bed if you want to,” Anne indicates, “or you can keep holding her, it will probably spoil her rotten.”

“As if you don’t do it all the time.” She says, with a smile. “Want to feel the fabric, Liz?”

She leaves the baby on the bed, who is quickly able to get her head up while laying on her belly. She starts feeling the texture of the fake fur coverlet. For a moment, mother and daughter exchange a look, fascinated for the new texture. Catherine picks a pillow with a rustic cloth, rougher, and leaves it near Elizabeth, who doesn’t seem amused by the change of texture she is feeling.

“Babies are supposed to start exploring at this age,” Anne explains, “I think she loved your bed.”

“Well, I for sure love it,” she laughs, “I would stay in bed all day if I had the chance.”

“I wouldn’t,” Boleyn admits, “not in a million years. I have way too much energy to actually just stay in bed. Maybe it doesn’t show now, but I swear it’s true.”

“I can imagine. You spend a lot of energy taking care of Elizabeth, and you still always seem up for a cup of tea.”

“I’m not as inviting with everyone else; you are an exception.” She clears her throat, in an attempt to lighten the mood again. “Which is the next room we are heading to?”

“The only other room in the house, my study.”

Catherine takes the baby again in her arms, who doesn’t enjoy being away from the soft bed, but quickly gets distracted by the curly hair of the writer. She stays focused on the hair, while they leave the room and go across the hall to the study.

It’s a dark room, and Parr is aware of it. Three walls painted in a dark brown, and one wall covered in wood. The glass desk sits opposite to the door, with her laptop neatly closed. There are portraits with different titles and prizes she has won, and her photos with friends and family.

“In that photo,” Catherine signals, “are my godmother and her daughter. It was a few months ago after a surprise birthday party we had for her. I never thought a kid would be good at keeping secrets, but apparently, she is. Probably better than I am.”

“I never would have pinned you as someone who can’t keep secrets.”

“I can keep secrets! But not when it comes to gifts. Or any in that line for all that matters. I spill it out too soon because I get too excited about it.” She admits.

“That's lovely.” Anne smiles. “I am just straight up bad at keeping secrets. I forget those are secrets. Kit is always mocking me for it, but she still trusts me, or I think so.”

Anne is about to continue talking, but she realizes a change on Catherine’s face. She looks at Elizabeth and realizes that the baby is pulling down a handful of hair. Boleyn goes to aid her neighbour, taking her daughter on her arms, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“We don’t do that Liz.” She gives Cathy an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, in my defence I told you she is strong.”

Catherine laughs lightly at the joke, “it’s true, you did tell me,” she says, tickling Liz’s stomach, “who could have thought such a small baby could be so robust?”

“I’m not sure.” Anne admits. “No hard feelings though, I think it means she likes you, or at least she likes your hair.”

The adults decided to go back to the living room, Anne sitting on the sofa under the window while Catherine served the tea. Elizabeth was slowly drifting back to sleep when the Boleyn girl accepted the cup, with Parr fixing a plate with a piece of cheesecake, the biscuits and cookies.

They settle on a peaceful silence, comfortable enough to not push them to talk. With the sunset light sneaking through the window, reflecting on Anne’s skin. She was glowing, a fairy-tale like bright. Her green eyes contrasting with her hair, the baby being held close to her.

It was not in that moment when Parr fell in love with her. It happened before that. It was the long talks about French, about their daily lives and what to cook. It was the nights up with Elizabeth and thinking about sharing her favourite tea. Wanting everything to be perfect, and hoping to see her the next day. Shy glances and dreaming with green eyes.

It had been a process, one that she tried to ignore, to push aside, but in that moment her heart knew it was correct, that sitting next to Anne drinking tea, cooing at Elizabeth was her place. It was not the apartment; it was how much she craved to call that scene hers. To look forward to coming home to them.

And she should’ve seen it coming, see her feelings growing, but she didn’t. Parr didn’t notice how every love song suddenly referred to Anne, how her writing had gotten more romantic in the past few weeks. Because it wasn’t reckless like other times she had been in love, it wasn’t pushed. Maybe it wasn’t falling per se, but just loving her in a way that a life without her would be the greatest tragedy of all.

“Anne.” She called.

“Yes?” The Boleyn girl asked.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course, but I can’t promise I will keep it.”

“I would love to go on a date with you.” She admits. “Maybe you would like to, some day?”

She stands awkwardly, next to Anne. For a moment reprimanding herself for such a forward act.

“Yes! I thought I was being obvious about it.” Anne laughed. “I would love to go to a date with you, Catherine.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you guys liked this then please leave a comment and tell me if you want a one shot about the date and how it goes, also if you guys have any ideas feel free to share.  
> Also come and say hi to my tumblr lessix or also to my discord lemxnpills#1196 (there's also a super cool fanfic server so if anyone wants to join feel free to send me a message)


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